


Malgré Moi

by kaizoku



Series: Summer Pornathon 2014 [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - Noir, F/F, Female Anti-Hero, Femme Fatale, Femslash, Infidelity, Intrigue, Paris (City), Summer Pornathon 2014, Team Gluttony, implied Arthur/Gwen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaizoku/pseuds/kaizoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mithian can't have Gwen - and she can't deny Morgana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malgré Moi

**Author's Note:**

> Summer Pornathon 2014 for Challenge 5: Snatch
> 
> Title inspired by the 1930s song [Parlez-Moi D'Amour](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIAQWr34De0). The line "malgré moi je veux y croire" translates as something like _in spite of myself I want to believe,_ but "malgré moi" can also mean "to my regret" or "against my wishes."

Rain pattered on the roof, painted wavy lines through the dust on the grimy window. In the dim grey of twilight, Mithian could only see the curve of Gwen's lips, her profile, as she lifted damp curls from the nape of her neck, sighing at the breeze.

She wetted a cloth in the basin, dragging it over her skin, across her breasts and between her legs. A man would have called it a whore's bath, but Mithian didn't care, just wanted to pull her back into bed, make her wet and messy again.

"Do you have to go?" She curled a hand around Gwen's thigh, licked the inside of her thigh, the smell of their sex filling her head, until Gwen shivered and pulled away.

"You know I do, chérie." Gwen leaned in and kissed her, gentle. A goodbye kiss, so different from the frantic intensity of before. She was distracted. "I'm seeing Arthur later."

Mithian turned away, ignoring Gwen's pout, and shook a Gauloise from the pack, scratching a match against the wine crate that served as bedside table.

"Thought you were done with that prick," Mithian muttered, but her heart picked up speed. Gwen's hand curved around hers, cool, and she slid onto the bed, lighting her own cigarette from Mithian's. Gwen only smoked Gitanes. She smiled like a schoolgirl sharing a secret.

"You should see the pile of bills he has in that penthouse. All the jewels too."

Mithian's throat closed. Money, that's what it always came down to.

Walking up into Montmartre was an ironic reminder that she was no better herself. The haze was thick on the hill, the streets dark and slick. She might as well have been descending into the gutter, that was how dirty it made her feel to come here.

Mithian rang the bell and waited, checking up and down the deserted street. You could never be too careful. It was late, later than she'd meant to be. She would pay for that. But the information she'd gleaned tonight would make up for it, she hoped.

From the outside, it looked like just another student flat, but inside every stick of furniture cost as much as Mithian could eat on for a year.

The door clicked open and Mithian entered. Only when the door closed again did Morgana emerge from the shadows into the flicker of gas lighting. Mithian wanted to roll her eyes - really, it was so overdramatic - but then Morgana had her pressed up against the wall, her chin in a harsh grip as Morgana kissed her, probing her mouth as if she could taste any lies. As always Mithian resisted at first, sparring with her tongue, but then Morgana was rucking up her skirt and tracing the seam of her panties. She wasn't wearing nylons, they'd only be run to shreds by Morgana's fingernails.

"Hello, darling," Morgana cooed. "You're still so wet. Playing with our little friend?"

She squirmed, ashamed as Morgana's fingers slicked into her cunt. She was still swollen and now she would be sore. Morgana wasn't shy about shoving three fingers in, and it was too much, too hard, yet not enough all at once.

"She visited me earlier, but-- oh!"

Mithian jumped when Morgana ripped open her blouse, scattering buttons, but before she could protest this mistreatment of her clothing, Morgana was pulling down the cups of her brassiere and ducking her head to suck and bite at Mithian's nipples. She moaned, hands coming up to clutch at Morgana's shoulders. Her legs were trembling.

She loved this, how rough Morgana was with her, maybe more than Gwen's sweet embrace. She felt like an addict, unable to stop herself from oscillating between them. One she couldn't have, the other she shouldn't.

"Tell me what she told you. Is it going to be tonight?"

"No, ah-- not tonight. In a week's time."

Morgana bit down, her fingers rubbing staccato rhythms against Mithian's clit, and she came, shuddering and trying to push away as she became too sensitive. 

"Bien fait," Morgana said, kissing her cheek. "Good job."


End file.
